Hoc was climbed and capixired byrn225 Rangers. . . . This was the mostrndifficult of the landings.rnI study these words as I walk across thernColleville-St-Laurent cemetery on a surprisinglyrnblustery summer day, overcastrnand damp. The cemetery is the finalrnresting place of some 9,386 Americansrnkilled in the battle for Normandy, andrnthe debris of war—obstacles set up byrnRommel to impede an invasion and thernpill boxes on the summit of Pointe durnHoc —is still there, jutting from the sandrnand the stone like bizarre post-modernrnsculptures. Descending to the beachrnand walking in the direction of thernRanger assault at Pointe du Hoc, 1 discoverrnthat the water is numbingly coldrnand that the heights above the beachrngave the Germans the deadly highrnground. A “difficult” landing. “Heavyrnlosses.”rnThe white crosses at Colleville-St-rnLaureiit, punctuated by a Star of Davidrnhere and there, are spread across a strikingrngreen sward, enclosed by trees andrnbacking up to a monument and a simplernstone wall. It is the wall I’ve come for.rnThe 19-year-old sergeant I pay homagernto is not interred here, or anywhere. Irnsnap a piciure of the inscription. All thatrnis left is a shudder as I recall the grief of arnGold Star mother who never quite gotrnover the loss of her eldest son. My namesake.rnI feel a mixture of sorrow and envy.rnThe picture of the war most of us have isrnthe bloodless epic of T/ie Longest Day orrnthe episodic drama of the old CombatrnTV series. The Last Good War. DudleyrnDoright Meets the Waffen SS. But a visitrnhere taps us on our mental shoulders tornlet us know that it wasn’t like that. Itrnwasn’t like anything we—the ones whornweren’t there or someplace like it—havernever known.rnSaving Private Ryan is the film forrnwhich Steven Spielberg will probably bernmost remembered. Watching Ryan, thernaudience has its consciousness joltedrnand its understanding of war deepened.rnThe film’s first 25 minutes are an exhaustingrnand exhilarating depiction ofrnthe Omaha landing. A storm of firernand death greets the GIs as the door ofrnthe landing craft drops. Men drown,rnweighed down by equipment in thernchilling waters, and the audience isrnpulled from the comfort of the theater byrna dreadfiil assault on the senses. Bloodrnand body parts, screams and shouts, andrnunbelievable bravery make up the terrifyingrnmosaic of Ryan’s Omaha sequence.rnThere is in this film sorrow and callousness,rnheroism and cowardice, fearrnand the comradeship that only a closelyrnknit group of men in dire circumstancesrnfeels. The east—led by Tom Hanks asrnCaptain John Miller, a Pennsylvaniarnschool teacher dropped into the unlikelyrnrole of leader of men in the deadly maneuversrnof war; Tom Sizemore asrnSergeant Horvath; Edward Burns as PrivaternReiben; and Matt Damon as the elusivernIowa farm boy, Private James FrancisrnRyan—pulls off a remarkably naturalrnportrayal of young men bound by faternand imcommon love, spurred on by thernheightened sensory experience of war,rndeprivation, and sudden death. Millerrnand his men are given an unlikely mission:rnfind and save young Ryan, whosernthree brothers have been killed. GeneralrnMarshall, portrayed by Harve Presnell,rnhas given the order: Mrs. Ryan will notrnlose her only remaining son.rnSpielberg, the proverbial Hollywoodrnliberal (a breed not renowned for its lovernof Middle America), is paying tribute tornthe sons of Boise and Brooklyn andrnBirmingham for the awful sacrifice theyrnmade. To set the tone, Spielberg paysrnhomage to John Ford’s The Searchers,rnwhile noting the landscape of a mostrnAmerican director’s The Grapes ofrnWrath: As Mrs. Ryan is notified of thernloss of three sons, she is framed in a farmhouserndoor, looking out on stretches ofrnamber waves of grain, while she is approachedrnby the messenger from onernside, a preacher from the other. Somernconser’atives have already attacked thernfilm for not glorifying the war, for stressingrnthe horrors of war over its somehmernnecessity, perhaps for being anti-American,rnbut the audience’s empathy for tlierncharacters is excited precisely becausernthese me American boys facing those horrors:rnRyan’s GIs are not speechifying flagrnwavers, but common men who have setrnout to do a dirty job. Of course they loverntheir country and feel a sense of duty,rnand Spielberg has chosen to portray thatrnpatriotism in their reminiscing aboutrnhome, loved ones, and the simple beautyrnof their common lives. But war meansrnfighting, and fighting means killing.rnRyan’s GIs mow down the enemy withrnbrutal abandon and take reprisals againstrna disarmed German who has killed arnbuddy. The squad’s Jewish memberrntaunts German prisoners. These are tliernnormal reflexes of war, and it is aboutrnfime they were honestly portrayed. Perhapsrnthose who pass for conservatives inrnthe late I990’s, who seem to like war, anyrnwar, could learn a thing or two by reviewingrnthe thinking of some of theirrnforefathers, who saw things differently.rnOthers see Ryan as yet another Hollywoodrnattack on Chrisfianity. While it isrnobvious to any thinking person that thernHollywood of the 1990’s is hardly friendlyrnto the Chrisfian faith, it is also painfulrnto observe how squeamish conservativernChristians have become. No, Ryan’srnChrisfians would not be model membersrnof any organization dreamed up byrnRalph Reed. Jackson, the unit’s sniper, isrna dead-on impersonation of what anyrnwhite Southerner would readily recognizernas a type as old as the republic: Jacksonrnis Sergeant York. As he sets the sightsrnof his rifle, Jackson recites the 144thrnPsalm: “Blessed be the Lord my strength,rnwhich teacheth my hands to war, and myrnfingers to fight . . . my deliverer; myrnshield, and he in whom I trust.” It hasrnbeen a long time since Christians hadrnMOVING?rnT o ASSURErnUNINTERRUPTEDrnDELIVERY OFrnCHRONICLES,rnPLEASE NOTIFYrnUS IN ADVANCE.rnSEND CHANGErnOF ADDRESS AND THErnMAILING LABEL FROMrnYOUR LATEST ISSUE TO:rnCHRONICLESrnSUBSCRIPTION DEPT.rnP.O. BOX 800rnMOUNT MORRIS,rnIL 61054rnJANUARY 1999/47rnrnrn